In the before, before we ever were
We were the primordial
Till our ascendant transitions
Overtook our **** poor positions
On the rearranging food chain

When we changed to five fingered beings
With high octane ape brains
Transcending our vocal limitations
With new sonic imitations

A long lineage lining up
For one improvement then the next
Rising with each step on the DNA stairway
Loosing and gaining, gaining and loosing
Till, organs become vestigial
And even we cannot suss out
Their original purpose

We barely know the steps
To this historic dance
Just taking each adaption
As a matter of chance

Till tired tangents separate
Grow and aggregate

A billion years finds us here
Stewing in fear of
Our own irrelevance
Not knowing that by growing
Such creative brilliance
We have discovered
Our own non-magical miracle

Twigs sprouting leaves
Protein powered trees
Our heritage ascending to the state of
Such a prodigious poetic primate

Where do all the lost boys go?
The rag tag scruffy band
of tiny merry men
playing Robin hood again,

The kings of
flying fancy,
dragons dancing
in the fire lit night,
the little wrathful
waking warriors,

The lonely eyes,
with scraped
and soon to be
scabbed up knees,

The oily skin
and dripping tears
accompanied by
snot that drip drops,

The searchers,
tiny adventurers,
monster hunters,

The little victims,
who follow the whims
of cruel dictators,
of vile violators,
of demon desecrators
on their soft flesh?

When all the madness
seems to pass
and only the stillness
finally lasts,
when they finally
silence the bad,
quieting
the nightmares
they had,

after peering
through
windows,
searching
the artic cold
of winter’s
harsh white snow,
searching for
a safety
they have never
known,

please tell me
cause I don’t know,
where do
the lost boys
go to?

The bright white headlights
pierced the quiet night sky,
catching the hazel eyed
strange passerby,

the unsuspecting figure
who was crossing the road
by the beautiful pathway
that lay straight next to
a perfect beach view.

There, solid metal struck
with an unsettling thud,
the fleshy form
of that adolescent.

As expected
when metal meets
meaty flesh,
that young man flew
if just for a second or two,
then tripped over the side rail
and fell.

The driver accelerated
moving quickly away
not wanting to face
the consequences
of this crash,

while further down
on wet and sandy ground
a human being
struggled to move
in hopes of being seen,
and saved.

Each breath agony,
persisting only in the hopes of living,
but never found salvation’s answer.

From the mainframe
That brought you war games
Head-shots for **** points
Team death match battles
Close to realistic war scenes
On your plasma tv screen
Here your enemies scream
As their heads explode
See your IQ drop
While dexterity improves
As your gaming console
Get used to control
A digital killing machine
Pumped up world war dreams
Cause death is a game
And killing is great
And now our children are well trained
To fly our missile and machine gun
Loaded drones
and shoot down the enemies
Of our sick bloated
Corporate corrupted
Fake free state

Oh, humanity
can we strive
to live a life
of compassion?

If we hear
the elderly
crying and lonely
can we spare
a moment,
can we care
enough to listen?

If we see a stranger
standing on a corner
with a lifetime
of white hair
and pain to share
even though
he may be scamming
can we still care
enough to spare
some food at least?

If we stand shoulder to shoulder
with the disenfranchised,
the disrespected
and the disappointed people
who have been
discriminated against
can we look them in the eyes
with love and respect
and not add to the grief
that they always seem to get?

If we get the chance
can we be better
then the others
who came before?
Can we do just a little more
and be decent for a change?

There is no hope for my kind of crazy.
It spits and sputters, shakes and stutters.
Rages once ill conceived now burn and bleed.
Consistency of hope a false promise,
there are no healing spells, or magic potions
no perfect pills. Cutting flesh is for fools.
Settling is for tools, society is festering
it's flesh oozing greed and corruption.
I see the lines and circles.
From you to me, the web is incomplete,
and the madness
oh the madness
becomes bitter and sickly sweet

This room is a prison
A soul ******* constriction
Of cold capitalistic ambition
Silent stares for the sake of
Professionalism

I can feel the embolism
Bubbling up in my blood vessels
Red water ready to burst
Till my heart hurts
From such callousness
In the name of business

Corporate copying
Money making, taking
And eventually losing
All that we are trained to believe
Is the measure of a successful
Human being

I wonder
will my words
reveal
the truth
of how I feel
or felt.

I remember
myself
curled in a
a curving
form
when I
was very
young
and going
to sleep.

Knee
collapsing
into my
stomach,
hands
around
my knees,
as if
I was a
rolly polly
worm
or a child
who was trying
to remain
unseen.

Why did I
compact myself
in such a
manner?

Life is chaos
Not a controlled lawn
Neatly trimmed
Green skin
But wild vegetation
Free flowing weeds
Not some zoo
Or domesticated
House pet
But hungry creatures
With predator eyes
Living to get by
Lest we forget ourselves
We are the weeds
And the wild animals
Wearing false pretenses
And pretentious suits
But the hunger still waits
The dark beast still beats
Beneath
Our human demeanor
Chaos

We breathe like we bleed
Living to plant seed
The only way to succeed
Is to pass it on

But ragged breathes
Equals bloodied chest
Coughing red phlegm
Is such a dying problem
The plague that is us
Destroys and distrusts
Mentally able
Yet we see are facilities rust
From dis and misuses
From sad bad abuses

Till we bleed more than we breathe
Ceasing to be
Less than alive
And more like a painful memory

This city drinks me in
Scratches my skin
And calls life sin

I am one bottle
Half empty
Sick salt water
Made to spit
Wet ****
As this vile brew
Slips pass my
Cracked lips

Drunk to get free
Buzzed to be me
So people can see
I don’t care what they think
How sobering

Dry eyes sealed shut
Crusted sleep dust
Thirsty, sore
If I flew before
I do not remember
I am disrobed
And dismembered
Exposed in December

Towering teeth
Swallowing me
Till I cannot see
Till I cannot breath
Till I have to leave

Water skin broken
The tab is busted
The words drained
Fizzy water
Becomes my
Clouded brain
I am spent
So I hit the train
Exiting as other dreamers
Come raining in

It is the price of machismo
We’re supposed to let our grief go
Don’t let the tears show
Or let others know
Of the scars just beneath
Your skin

I say ****’em
And all of their expectations
Masculinity does not
Define my behavior
Sorrow still stings
Surpassing all things
Makes us human beings
Not stiff constipated
Empty shells that serve
Modern kings

I lay weeping
Still keeping
That which is still beating
Strong
Feeling for me
And Others I see
Even some I will never see
Even the lost wrongs of history
Cause I believe
To lose that
Would make me less me

You let the music run rough shot, right over you.
Don’t you miss those calming blues,
The cadences and melodies that soothed,
Lully-byes intertwined with sweet good byes,
Celtic songs that longed to make you cry,
To help you find your celestial delight,
The soft thrumming of tribal humming,
The slow tempo that takes you home,
To old memories?

I am not saying that their displaying
A bad kind of vibe,
Or that they’re too far gone to the wrong
To ever find what’s right,
To lost in the night to ever see the light.
Angry faces flare firing fist for fighting,
But sometimes all that anger
Just doesn’t seem right.
All that bark still carries all that bite,
And I wonder if it’s in the rage
That you forget yourself

Do you lose the day?
Tell me what does your inner nature say?
Is there a bit of peace?
Or did you give it all away,
To that vicious beast,
To that malicious beat,
Sizzling electric and vocal shock
Yeah the hard knocks we all call hard rock?

I put a quarter in the bin.
You take more than ten
back out again.
You’ve been
gambling
with my life
wearing silver linings
and golden green
shirts with ruffles
and jackets
that are sparkling.

While someone is
parking your Benz
your cashing
government checks
turning poor people in
for being impoverished
while you abused
the system
you want to make great again.

You want to make America hate again
but we all know that is
almost the easiest road
to pave,
****** that some
descendent from a slave
made it great.

So, in your resentment
you simmer
to a boiling point
of rage
setting America on fire
with your political lies.

Sometimes music makes me forget the movie
Wind instruments whirling around
Dancing in the background
Like wheat flowing with the wind
Then the swirling violin comes rushing in
Chasing the emotional pace
It will not reach first place
But in that holy space
I am in love with its’ sound

And the piano I know
Oh so well
The vibrant keys
Porcelain or ivory beauties
Ready to break beneath the rough speed
Or softly setting the mood
From black to white
Letting the busy but dull day
Transition to a musical night of delight

I slumber in their debt
The sound comes in
And out again
Dulcet tunes aging
Evolving while playing
Changing
An old maid to a young maiden
The vitality of the sounds
With all those potent emotions
It is one of the deepest loves
I have ever known

The broken are so beautifully
Strange and distorted
Mirroring the mistakes
Our societies makes
The risks we take
And failing
Little monsters make
Swollen bellies bloated with pride
They walk upon the ashes of the broken

Sweat and dirt
Earth pushing deeply into our fingers
Till it hurts
Till the nails drop blood
Like they were seeding the mud
And those ticks
**** it up
Snuck up
To **** up
Our lives

But the broken
Bare their pain
Take their shame
Like pharmaceutical products
In the morning and before bed
Before the doctors bled
Their children

Oh god
The golden gone
Father forsworn
To wear the thorn
Which you broke your children with

The slave owners whip
The stings
As mothers screamed
While children
Ran deep into the dark forests

We broken are the children
Of the Natives Americans
The African
The Chinese and Japanese
Our skin was not Jaundiced
We were not black
But earthly brown
Not red but slightly tanned
Beautiful
Our cultural heritage
Stolen
Disfigured
As the starving
Lay dying

While the morally bankrupt
Keep thriving

We are broken
Spine curved
Tired and wretched
Scared of the cops
And the injustice system
That we live in
But still beautiful

We are pink brown
And every other color
That paints this town

They are the sociopaths
The monsters
Masquerading
As moral crusaders

The winter falls as fast as hailstones. White wonderlands crossing every horizon, except from my bedroom window. Then she comes, in a fearful mood, mitigated by what, I am uncertain. Maybe I did something, maybe I did nothing. As a child I am almost certain it is my fault.

            A hand crashes forcefully against my face. Then again and again as I am restrained by the collar of my shirt. I can hear it stretching to its limits and tearing. I can hear this because I have stopped listening to her. Which makes her even angrier.

            I disappear. Why bother existing at all? There is a dull sensation of pain, but it is nothing. When she is done I come back. This is how I remember it. Although, I am certain this is wrong. I am just covering up the horrible stuff with some form of acrobatic escapism.

            When the fury ends and she is physically and emotionally spent, I am sent to my room. It is a safe prison, a place where I cannot confess my shame and hers to anyone. She is safe from the prying eyes of DCFs and I am safe from her.

            Ten to thirty feet away from window I watch the world go on without me. There is a painful longing. My neighbors enjoy the day unsullied by my darkness. I wonder how bad I must be. I cry and wish to die. This is a fact unclouded by time or wishful thinking.

            I read the bible. I sneak a real book and read it. The book is wedged between my bed and the wall. I conceal half of it in the covers as I read the other half, adjusting it carefully and as quietly as possible. When I can’t read I sleep. I sleep so much that I get tired, then I sleep some more. I work as far ahead in my assignments as I can. Thank goodness the teacher is predictable.

            I think, I breathe, I live, but it feels like death. When my sentence is over I am free for a week or so. Then she is angry again. Whatever, back into my cell as I watch the world change. Winter is in its full bloom. Sometimes, I **** in a cup because I am only allowed a certain amount of bathroom visits.

I sit. I think. I sleep. I dream.

I am not even safe in my own dreams. In every dream I am pursued. A monster in space, Freddy Krueger, or just her. I run but spikes start sprouting from the ground, and every step sends spasms of sharp pain through my feet. I can fly but only so far and so high. Electric wires act like rubber bands and sling me painfully back to the spike filled earth. There is no freedom.

            I am out for a day. Then back in again. Sad songs repeat themselves on my cassette player. This only perpetuates and deepens my agony. The children laugh and play slinging snowballs dangerously fast at each other’s face. Why am I the freak? Why can’t I be free?

            The violence subsides. Now there are only harsh, well extremely harsh words, hundreds of sentences to writes, and longer confinements. I come and go so fast that it feels like I spend more time in my room then I have ever spent anywhere else.

            Summer comes, and thank goodness she has to work. I have some free time. However, summer passes and the spring brings with it the same dullness. Now, I am back to winter. My life has become a sad echo. The kids can see that I am weak. Of course I am weak. I must be weak, because I can’t handle what must be normal.

            The snow comes, so deep, white, pure, and humbling. I watch it for days.  No one goes outside. My room becomes a strange universe with me at the center spinning but never moving. I never leave this room, except for meals and the occasional ****. There is something building up inside. I open the window. Then I slam it just as quickly. I open it again feeling the full frosty force of Mother Nature. What a glorious breeze. I shiver with pleasure and with the coldness of it all.

            In the past I have tried to **** myself, but I can’t seem to die. God won’t let me go, and neither will she. So, the window comes open again. I am overcome with another impulse. With no shirt or shoes I jump out the window. It is only a two foot drop. My feet bury themselves in the cold snow. I run around as long as I can stand it, till my feet ache with the pain of cold, then pull myself back in.

            The next day I do it again. I run about a block or so and return. It feels amazing. My mind can barely take in the magnificence of it all. I hope that winter will last forever. The pain and pleasure of it all excites me. My feet go from warm to frosted then I focus on the sensation of them warming up again slowly. It is like they go from alive to dead then come back alive again.

            There it is. The grand pleasure of a small release. No fairytales or dragons. I come and go as I please. No one is outside but me. Me reveling in the cold; me dancing like a madman. I do not get sick. The beast never catches me. She is defied without pain. My dreams don’t change. The world doesn’t get that much better.

            Then when the snow fades and children, come back out to play I am trapped again.But, but this minor pleasure remains. For a bit I came and went as I pleased, free to freeze or not.

I am looking for a world where I don’t have to be sad
People don’t always act like their mad cause I know
That they are not bad, not cardboard cutout, stiff and preformed
Made to perform in the swarm to dive into the **** storm
Killing the warm form of normal affection for a quick *******
Defection for assimilation,
And I would consider self-immolation
If the rewards would exceed the pain it cost
The innocence we lost was just Christmas dressing
Preachers oppressing with fairy-tale lesson
Like lesions on our brains
Like leeches suckling on our flesh
The lies drain us of so much
They train us to do so little
So I am looking for a better world
Not out in space but a race to place human beings and nature
On a pedestal above baser things
A place where human beings belong to each other
Not the state or the denomination
No more discrimination
No more recriminations
Just a world more about love and less about greed

The day unveils
it's beautiful bright self
pulling back the curtain of
twilight’s twinkling.

Dark body undressed in favor
of nature's flavor of greens
that I long to savor
as I repatriate her repainted clouds
that cover a light blue complexion.

The hemlock grove grows poisonously
Paralyzes our youth
Nightshade in the everglades
The wonder fades
While centaurs and unicorns run away
Looking for a way to evade
Human beings and their dark adult dreams

It’s not the fairy queen’s fault
When she falters and falls
Failing us all
Those clear and glittering butterfly wings
Come missing
Acid tears come hissing
Macho men start *******
She is betrayed by our passions

The web of leaves caught
On the spider weaved branches
Of the big bad business man
Forgetting the bridge to Terribithia,
Fantasia, Neverland, Oz and Wonderland
Losing Alice, Dorothy, and Peter Pan

The innocence of a child
Who no longer dances
Decimated dreams
Fairy-tale creatures
Lose their way
Lose their voice and cannot play
Forget how to sing that way

Mothers weeps
Fathers eyes us all sternly
Tell us to get better earnings
And the myth of childhood fades away
To some long ago forgotten age

With every spear thrown
With every flying arrow
With every javelin ******
With every sword parry
With every cannon fired
With every bullet shot
With every gas and bomb
That we dropped
Like Oppenheimer and Thanatos
We have become death

I will tell you
the truth,
adjust and fine tune
till your view
matches
the matchstick
reality I made
for you.

I will cut and clip,
snip and rip
all of the
fanciful
fairy wing bits
that I want you
to forget.

I will mold
and distort,
stretch and contort
till your
red clay mind
conforms
to the norms
that I formed.

But if you dare despair
act scared
and air
your understanding
to try and repair
everyone’s
perceptions
of our shared
reality,

I will find you,
and take your rationality,
ostracize, or exclude
till you die
or submit to
the prechewed
military issued
world order
I eschew.

It is the soldier born of blood
That finds his bath irrevocably red
Crimson stains cloud his head
Not a part of him comes home unbled
But the bloodiest of wounds
The bleedings that never stops
Does not come from cut, or contusion
Not from the legions leaking lesions  
But from the dreams that wake him screaming
Turning a once wise and strong warrior
Into a broken ****** baby doll

Welcome to the me society
Look at me
Give me
Me technology
That builds a bubble of biasness

I want
I should have
Without giving back
Without sharing that
Which makes us human

But I want
To live to see
An us society
What can we do
To make life better
For our brothers
And sisters

I used to be a fanboy
With those boxed toy
Played those movies
In my head
Daydreaming instead of
Remaking my own reality
Sitting in a fixed position
No slick transition
To something better
Just wearing my red
Dead head sweater
Never even wrote this letter
Just let life run its will
Right over my heart
Until
I was as stiff in death
As I had been in life

The beautiful dawn burnt sky
Clouds colored with purple pastels
Blue and bluer night shades
Beauty in the nighttime

The killing fields blood soaked bandages
The fanatic’s face distorted with rage
Beautiful language turned to bile
And the corpses rise in piles

The flying birds singing
The squirrel trying to hide
The dog barking playfully
The deer running at night

The Cops throwing tear gas
The cops shooting young blacks
The cops get off scott free
Blaming the black community

The warm rain washing my raw skin
Splashing in puddles
Laughing with old friends
Rinsing away the stress

The starving child
The bitter pundit
The crooked politician
All of those nasty statesmen

It is getting harder and harder
To separate the hate
From the beautiful things
The music from the screams

And I keep slipping and slipping
Faster and faster into the depressive darkness
Defeated by the heartless
My heart is breaking and unlike the dawn
There will be no light coming

I got these strange romantic notions
No flower petals unless it’s four play
Where strangers can hear her screams from the doorway
But before that
I want conversation
Not the plebian kind of gossip crap
But the deep unexplored caverns
That she doesn’t even knows she has
I want to share a journey of intellectual exploration
So that when we are facing
Each other naked
It’s not just the flesh that is bare
So that when we touch
She knows that I care
About her mind as much
As the skin behind
The cloths she wears
Let her know that when I stare
It’s because I am enthralled
By the diamonds she hides behind
Her deep dark dream lit eyes

Even giants
have holes
in their heart,
dark shadows
that haunt
the old parts
split valves
breaking from stress,

big biceps
trained for
self defense
against
a monster
in their past,

chest pressing
the pain
others
were expressing.

But these beasts
do not repeat
the abuse.

They use
the pain,

give it
a new name,

and strive to be
ever better
then the darkness
that conquered
other fellows.

No fear,
just leg day.

I am a smelly **** furnace
Sadly my flatulence
It potent
The powerful smell
Is hell to your nose
But I do not know its’ odor
All it does is make me laugh

It’s not like some city of angels
Were people will dangle
The peach pit in front of your ****
Even if you succeed in seeding them
With the greatest kernel of truth
They will still forget or despise you
Because people want to invested in
Living in
The normal or the cool instead of
Trying to find out how to be in love
With the strangeness of this life
How to keep on dreaming
Instead always demanding meaning

The walls are a litter
of chaos layered upon
the anarchy of
spray painted letters;

Various styles of
dripping calligraphy,
silver lines spilling
their energy down
this hard word laden wall.

A lovely looping Y
is engraved in flesh tones
while the rest of the word
remains unknown
permanently obscured
by the intent of
newer artists.

I am awestruck
to the point of
an autistic response,
paralyzed by the
thick presence
of chipping paint
that flakes off
to take us back
to a blank canvass past.

Till, a swirling view
twirling through
enchants me to move.

My hands tremble,
reaching for the small breach,
longing to be swallowed,
absorbed, and added
to this discordant beauty.

What a dashing figure,
shirt unbuttoned halfway
as he delivered
his lines with grace.
However, this is not a gay man’s appraisal
of another man’s handsome face,
but a straight and secure observation,
a poet’s reflection
informed by the actor’s
performance.

Silver, white, and glittering scales
Cross fins as they gather themselves
Cool pond partially reflecting
The warm lamp lights on the ceiling
With the grace of a cat the carp
Crosses over coming closer
His mouth bubbling open
Expecting food pellets from me

It is the last day
to feel this
particular wind
on my face,
to absorb these
particular sun rays.

The boxes are packed
uniformly matched
except for
the black markings
that indicate
which room
the things inside
came from.

I slide my hand
across the
kitchen counter top
and find no dust
or dirt to speak of.

The carpet
feels thick and stiff.
I rub my bare feet
across the floor
one more time.
Then slip
my shoes
back on again.

It’s time to move on,
you’d think
it would get easier
with this
roaming disposition
that holds me
in its grip.

I’ve moved so much
but I still miss,
all that history
I associate
with each old place
that I once lived in.

I pick up
the last box
as little ghosts
of memory
follow me
melancholily
out of the door.

I send wishes like star light
Praying we will be alright
All night long where we go on
But the darkness is strong
And as deep as the sleep of the ocean
History is cooked in
Gas chambers and ovens
Despite all my loving
I can’t heal history
Still the best of me
All I have left you see
Is telling stories
Compelling strangers in danger of forgetting
To remember what I mean by regretting
Knowing it is not our fault
Doesn’t lessen the pain
Nor uncut the historical vein
I just want to teach them and you to
So those human horrors don’t happen again

You can paint infinity
on a set of plates
that lay here before me,

share a season’s story
leaving out what is gory.

You can dance in skewed
perspectives,
make rainbows cry
while a little child
staves off this painted rain.

You can make manifest
the spirit over which
you give dominion
to all who live in
this little world.

Let lovers walk
from pools reflecting
many shades
that illuminate
the end of days.

Can take the infinitude
of every instance
that made you, you
and summarize it
in multiple tints
of blue;

Take the beauty
and wonder of
a stranger’s face
lit by inspiration
as she reads
by a windowpane,

while I can take apart
and break the art
you made with your heart,
to write this silly little poem.

Father creator artist of my birth
I have seen the dragons that you sketch
Their skin scaly and dry
Their breath like orange exploding flowers
Your power exist within my hands as well
To dream and to shape I am the maker as well
You sketched death in all of its skeletal grace
Woman with strong features and amazing beauty
With your course and worn hands you molded reality
A gift which I am grateful to have
With a word I can bring light to a void
Reason to confusion and humor to sadness
For that I must express my gratitude
And let all know that as a dreamer
The only way I can fall and fail
Is to give up these rapturous visions
TO sacrifice my passion and settle for scraps
This I cannot do I will not do
I will paint the world with my strange sanity
In my arrogance I will demand much
Bullet for Brushes knives for pen
Peace through aesthetic and verbosity
The words may rip and tare at my gut
Force their way from my throat till they are expunged from my body
But they will always be mine
So I must Thank you thank you a thousand times and more

I wanted to raise the coffin lid
But I never got to see how the city
Treats the ones life defeats
How the skin rots when it’s not
Maintained by being embalmed
But the coffin was locked
And the hour was late
The crowd was gathering
And the service couldn’t wait

To be seen
By amorous eyes
Feel the friction from
Those positions
Of paralleled affections
With her long and
Glamorous thighs
Soft curling tongue
Athletic with desire’s
Fevered urgency

To lap love’s
Pooling juices

To linger
With fingers
Rolling softly
Across her skin
Hear her sighing

To feel her flesh vibrating
Her breath climaxing
In unison
Then sated
After ***’s fury has abated

To speak and listen
While cuddling
What a wonderful
Weekend that would be

She tortured me
Like a lonely sailor I was easy prey
It was easy to say ok
Even seeing the inkling of deceit
Staring right out at me
She touched me and there was hope
And with enough distance
She cut my throat
Left me to bleed
To lay here and seed the soft earth
With red water as I sank deeper and deeper
Down into the ground
She resurrected me with love
But left the better part to death
And I became a zombie

She did not need swords
Or cannons firing
Her eyes conquered my desire
Pupils piercing the core
Of my gluttonous yearning
A hunger I wished
To feed
A ravenous need
To devour her soul
Teething and
Nibbling gently

She did not need a gun
Or axes slashing
Nor hammers smashing
Her poetry
Spoke to me
Weakened my resolve
To never love again
Such ardent whispers
Calling out to
Like minded souls
Such loving verses
Cursing my heart
To lack of control

With a snap of her fingers
I would wither
Let winter consume me
For a small chance
That she would warm me
With her naked flesh

Her pictures make
Me touch myself
An *******
Fury
Because to me
It is more powerful
When you fantasize
About the eyes
Of someone you love

I am not conquered
So much as happily surrendering
Let her being devastate
And devour me
I would follow blindly
To my demise
Behind her devilish eyes

The curse of power is that it tends to corrupts
The hearts and minds of those who want it to much
Even those who have already acquired it
Can lose their way and get mired in it
But if by some miracle you remain unscathed
Then you have the obligation to use it the right way
Cause all it takes for evil to prevail
Is for good men to do nothing while wicked men turn this world into hell

Sacs of flesh water skins
Bleach white bones
Will burn from within
Cancer sticks
Fleshy *****
Human animals
With parts that fit
**** to ****
Desire this
But I resist
Wanting love
From the lust that I missed
We kissed and now we are dust

Shadows form and flicker
Bodies moving in the night
Her presence lingers on my mind
Impression of her hand in mine
The smell of her strawberry breath
I awake and even the conscious thought of her is gone
Only in dreams can I see her
Only in slumber do I know her

She is a walking heartbreaker
In pictures, words, and lust
Tears form flowing outwards
Falling faster and faster
I sit foggy eyed and find I must
Distract and extract myself
From her painful poetic presence
From her deep dark hungry essence
Sultry and sulking for another lover
She breaks me so quickly and easily
Once a regular communicator
Now I barely register
Perhaps it is better for her
And a lesson for me to lessen
People’s ability to infiltrate my heart
For my sanity I unfollow and unfriend
But occasionally go back there again
Like biting my tongue to see
If it still hurts me and if I will bleed
I find that she still holds to strong of a grip
Over my heart and mind

Her sweet blue eyes
are as deep as the
turquoise sky.
They pierce my heart,
and I hate
any guy
who makes her cry.

--------------------------------------
There is a knot in my stomach,
with a deep seated dread
that though my love currently needs me
she will leave me when she returns to
the dude who misused her heart.

The night is lonely
stinging me
with all of its
silent beauty.

Seems like
the stars are
predators
stalking me
in this city,
this savanna of
stone and concrete.

I look at
all these
little beasts,
scrambling mammals
who are stressing,
dressing
anxiously,
trying to impress
all those
other oppressed
consumers.

I look at
the glimmering pond
then on
to the whining blond
who is carrying on
like a spoiled diva
ruining my once pleasant
silent evening.

I listen to
the rustle of
shuffling leaves
on those
old oak trees.
I stand quietly
in deep shadows
and listen to
the sounds
that you forgot.

Night birds chirping,
skittering squirrels,
dogs barking,
almost drowned out
by the loud cars honking
parking right up on the curb.

Then it hit,
silver point
bombastic
metal
piercing
my back
till I faded to black.

I dream of minds expanding
roads diverging
from learning
and growing
in a garden of
grand and changing ideas.

I dream of wonderlands
that consist of;
What if love
conquers hate?
What if curiosity
conquers ignorance?
What if technology
and language
conquers the distance
between what
you and
I understand?

I dream of new waves
traveling in space,
signals that remain
long after we pass
that continue to ask
all the questions we ask
and even the ones we have
yet to get to.

I dream of clarity
that clears the fog
then more insights
that expand our senses
with the consequences
of peace, love, and understanding
of people handling
hearts with care
so those who know despair
find that they don’t have to live there
that they can visit their pain,
learn from that ache,
and educate others
not insulating them from suffering
but offering well-informed solace
and a chance to make
everything better than it is.

I hope that when you feel love for yourselves and others that it becomes a driving force, that inspires acts of daily kindness, and courteousness. I want love to be contagious, so that when you smile at someone, or help them out they can't help but smile back and pass it on.
-2010

To me it’s a dead man’s barren land
Barely functional mostly boring
Gravel road with only two solid streets

No one meets a stranger
There is no danger of the unknown

People pass away becoming
A checkmark on a checklist
Five hundred to four hundred and ninety nine
Not including me

One water sac down and then another
One by one my family becomes deceased
Till this town feels like a disease
Till my instincts scream death trap

Heavy hearted but lightly packed
The road beckons and I leave it like that
A ghost town fading with the sundown
All my past buried in innocence and memories

And even though they are still very precious to me
I do not ever intend to return their again.